


The Reunion

by blasthisass



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasthisass/pseuds/blasthisass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five months and three days after the break up, Kurt and Blaine have a surprise reunion</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reunion

Five months and three days.

That was the amount of time that had passed since Blaine had last seen Kurt walking away from him in the darkness of Battery Park. That was the amount of time that had passed since Blaine had forced his feet to stay frozen in place as he broke his own heart and, like the demolition of a dam, the tears had come, heated and heavy, carving permanent scars into the curves of his cheeks.

He hadn’t meant for it to go on that long.

Well, if he was to be honest with himself, Cooper’s sudden decision to whisk the family away to L.A. over Christmas break, thus meaning that Blaine wouldn’t be there to participate in the inevitable New Directions reunions, had come as a bit of a blessing.

Because he didn’t think that he could face Kurt without shattering all over again. Without remembering that night in the park and the look on Kurt’s face when he’d ended things.

When he just wanted to set him free, but ended up encaging his own heart further, shrouding it in a pain that clung to it at all hours of the night, reawakening with a roar and a stabbing pain whenever he came upon even the smallest piece of memorabilia.

Like when he’d dumped out his hamper carelessly and Margaret had fallen out, staring up at him from the ground with those damn _sad_ eyes.

Like when Perfect came on the radio on his way to school.

Like when his dad sent him to the drugstore for something and he was forced to stand in a long line, looking at rows of packs of Wrigley’s gum.

Like when he came across a picture that hadn’t yet been tossed into the trash and snuck out into the box in the attic by his mother (he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he knew she wasn’t letting them get thrown out).

So maybe five months and three days had been a good thing, because he hadn’t ready after two.

***

Two hours, thirteen minutes and forty-five seconds.

Forty- six.

That was the amount of time that Blaine spent in Kurt’s presence at the New Directions reunion party during spring break in utter misery, watching the boy that had once been his best friend and the love of his life, _after_ coming to terms with the fact that Kurt still had the ability to seize his heart and sent it marching like a battle drum with as little as a simple look.

No matter how sad or anxious or reserved it was.

No matter the fluid manner in which Kurt instantly moved among this old friends and interacted with new ones, his smile beaming and pleased, but faltering every time he looked at Blaine.

He hated Blaine, he had to, even after five months, just as Blaine still felt the air being cut off from his lungs as though someone were tightening a noose around his throat.

Forty-seven.

***

Three minutes and ten seconds.

That was the amount of time Blaine spent alternating between staring at the empty beer bottle they were using for the game of spin the bottle and Kurt, whose expression was dark and unreadable.

The bottle that Blaine had thrown into a spin with an indifferent flick of his wrist and had slowed to a halt pointing at Kurt.

As though Satan and his devils were hell-bent on making Blaine’s life as awkward and miserable as possible.

Some of that time was spent numb, body losing all feeling at the fact that fate and gravity and whatever other forces of physics were involved in the game had to conspire against him, to force him to kiss the one person that he couldn’t. Because even after five months, three days, two hours and fifteen minutes, he still wouldn’t be able to do it. Wouldn’t be able to kiss Kurt as though he meant absolutely nothing to him, then laugh it off as the game continued.

Some of that time was spent in frustration over the fact that the New Directions couldn’t seem to have a party without some sort of absolute _shit_ going down. Without drama and people getting drunk enough to forget that, in a group as fractured by relationships and breaks ups as theirs was, games of spin the bottle were _never_ a good idea.

His eyes had risen up to meet Kurt’s, dumbfounded, as the group around them fell silent and shuffled awkwardly. Even thumping bass pouring out through Rachel’s speakers seemed to have quieted down as a result of the situation.

He knew he looked shocked, he must have.  
Kurt’s face was a neutral mask, his expression indecipherable. The only thing that Blaine could possibly use to gauge his emotions was the incredibly thin line of his lips.

***

Fifty-six seconds, give or take.

That was the time it took for Kurt to catch up with him after he’d stood up without a word, his body moving on automatic, and walked out of Rachel’s house straight into the rain, letting it hit the bare skin of his arms mercilessly, soaking through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

“What is wrong with you?” Kurt yelled after him, his footsteps light thuds and splashes as he jumped through puddles and chased Blaine down the driveway, his umbrella held open, angled in front of him to keep the rain off himself.

At the sound of his voice, Blaine could feel the heat of liquid threatening to spill from his eyes and he hunched his shoulders, both against the life-shattering voice and the pouring rain, and just kept walking.

He just had to get in the car and drive away and it would be good. It would be fine.

“What the hell was that in there?” Kurt demanded, his voice a numbing mixture of anger and distress. “It’s been almost half a year since _you_ broke up with _me_ and now you’re the one that’s fucking distant and avoiding me? You _broke_ my _heart_ and now you act like kissing me in a game of spin the bottle would be like coming in contact with some sort of infectious disease?” His voice rose above the pounding of water on the metal roof of Blaine’s car as he fumbled with his keys, the cool of the rain and the warmth of the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes mixing like the coming together of two weather fronts. “It’s been over for _months_! You cut me out of your life for _months_ and now you’re acting like this, what the fuck is wrong with y—”

“It wasn’t over for me!” Blaine yelled suddenly, all the emotions that he’d been keeping bottled up, hidden away for the past half-year suddenly spilling over, the sound of Kurt’s voice like a trigger that amplified everything to unbearable levels.

He whirled around, restless energy within him churning to stare at Kurt, who’d stopped yelling with his mouth open and his eyes wide, glistening like the reflections of lamps in the puddles in the street. He suddenly looked so small, his expression guarded but for the flicker of something like hope in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything as the energy drained from him, every emotion evaporated, leaving only the will power not to slump back, exhausted, against the side of his car. He stared at Kurt as he stood, his body erect, defensive but like a door at the verge of opening, face shrouded in shadow by the curve of his umbrella, and shook his head, defeated.

“It still isn’t over,” he murmured, so softly that his voice was drowned out by the heavy downpour.

Kurt stared at him, completely dumbfounded. It was as though time had frozen around them and Blaine could feel himself withering under the stare, but with no more energy to turn around and walk away.

Kurt scoffed loudly suddenly and, with no more warning than the mutter of, “God, you _idiot_ ,” dropped his umbrella onto the ground in favor of surging forward and smashing his mouth against Blaine’s.

Blaine gasped loudly in shock, his arms flying up automatically to grip Kurt’s biceps, the force of the kiss propelling him backwards into the side of his car as everything seemed to explode at once. One touch of Kurt’s lips against his and it was like the world was righted again, as though it had stopped rotating when all had fallen apart and was now jolted back into the way things were supposed to be. Like time had frozen and was now moving again. Like, by the force of gravity, the pieces had come back together and he’d been shoved back off the cliff into freefall.

It felt like flying again.

It took him a minute to react, but when he did it was with a bolt of adrenaline, pushing away from the chilled metal of his car and pulling Kurt closer to himself, whirling them around and pressing the taller boy against the side of his vehicle. Kurt moaned into his mouth, which had opened automatically as though the essence of Kurt was essential to his life. He felt arms wrap around his neck, compressing the air between them until he could barely even register the feel of Kurt’s clothes against his own, the thin fabric soaked and clinging to every muscle.

He kept pressing Kurt backward despite the fact that there wasn’t anywhere to go, his tongue battling for dominance in the connection between their mouths and his entire body lighting on fire at each point of contact. Kurt groaned, rising slightly on his toes and forcing Blaine to angle his head upward as they kissed.

The motion pressed Kurt’s hips against the top curve of Blaine’s and he let out a wrecked gasp at the hardness of Kurt’s cock, the sensation of it, after so long, sending his blood rushing south, like water churning into a waterfall at the edge of a cliff, and he broke away with a gasp, his lips against the long line of Kurt’s neck as he struggled for breath.

The air around him was filled with Kurt, with the heat rising like steam from his body, with the scent of him that burned Blaine’s lungs in a way that made him finally feel like he was alive.

He felt the vibrations of Kurt’s moan against his lips, his hands scrambling and slipping over all the parts of Kurt that he could reach, pulling Kurt’s hips closer toward himself.

Kurt swore loudly, his head falling back against the roof of Blaine’s car with a soft thump, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead. “Shit, Blaine, I want—”

“Yeah,” he mumbled against Kurt’s throat, the snaking rivulets of rain water mixing with the beads of sweat on Kurt’s neck, that taste lingering on his skin that was purely him. He pulled away with a small noise, his body aching and his cock straining against his jeans. “Yeah, we should go—”

Kurt shook his head and surged away from the car, his hands splayed on either side of Blaine’s face and pulling him into a messy kiss, holding him in place as he explored the cavern of Blaine’s mouth with heated desperation. “Don’t want to wait,” he muttered against Blaine’s lips, his voice low.

“I don’t have any—”

“I don’t care.”

“You do realize they’re spying on us—” Blaine started, his voice hoarse, like air wasn’t passing properly through his voice box.

“I don’t _care_ ,” Kurt growled, pushing them away from the car in order to wrench the door open.

He broke away from Blaine, staring at him with his eyes darkened with pure want, and fell backward into the back seat of the station wagon, his hand fisted in Blaine’s striped T-shirt, pulling him down with him and just barely avoiding banging Blaine’s head against the door frame.

Blaine opened his mouth to speak but it transformed itself into a high noise as Kurt moved back and pulled Blaine down on top of him, angling his hips upward against Blaine’s, his hands roughly pushing the wet fabric of Blaine’s shirt until it was bunched under his armpits.

Behind him, gravity pulled the door shut, the light in the car blinking out.

“You do— _ah_ —realize the irony,” Blaine gasped as Kurt leaned forward, his tongue chasing droplets of water down Blaine’s chest, lingering to shock him when it darted up to flick at his nipples, “of you wanting to have sex in my car?”

Kurt snorted against his chest, the rumble of his laugh against Blaine’s heart as his hands explored lower, tugging at the belt looped around Blaine’s waist. He pulled it out in one swift motion, tongue swirling and mouth sucking on the skin just above a rib. Blaine gasped for breath at the sound of his zipper, head back and forehead pressed against the fabric spread across the roof of his car.

“Kurt,” he groaned loudly, gasping uselessly as Kurt’s hand disappeared down his pants, the heel of his hand grinding hard into the erection.

There was a hand on his neck, pulling him down until he fell forward, his hands on the arm rest of the door behind Kurt, Kurt’s lips suddenly against his own as he kissed him like his life depended on it, hand working Blaine’s cock through the fabric of his underwear as he muttered Blaine’s name breathlessly against his lips.

He couldn’t remember when Kurt had unzipped his own jeans, forcing the wet denim down to his knees. In the haze of Kurt’s heat and his scent and his lips sucking on Blaine’s bottom one, he couldn’t remember when Kurt didn’t the same with his own.

He could only register the jolts of heat and electricity flashing through his very blood as Kurt lined them up, thrusting upward against him, back arching against the seat of the car.

It was like a fire lit beneath a pot of water, heating it until it bubbled over, flooding everything in sight with a burning heat.

There were sparks, supernovas behind the dark canvas of his closed eyelids as Kurt’s free hand wrapped around their twin erections, groaning wantonly into Blaine’s mouth as he pimpled them simultaneously, as they both thrust into his fist, tingling fire building at the bases of their spines and spreading upward like a reawakening of life.

And all either of them could think it was the plural, the desperate grind of both _their_ hips, the thrust of _their_ tongues against one another, the heat of _their_ bodies steaming up the windows, warmer than the spring weather and the cool rain beating down on the metal roof above them.

Like it had somehow always been and like it was meant to be. The two of them, so completely linked that without the other they weren’t whole.

With a twist of Kurt’s wrist, it was like the completion of creation, the Big Bang, and, hips stuttering forward and suns exploding across his vision, Blaine came as Kurt did, their back’s arching against one another as they chased their orgasms, waves of heat crashing over them and plunging them beneath the surface.

If there were words to describe it, they were erased from Blaine’s mind in favor of Kurt’s name and the warm, pounding feeling that again coursed through the center of his chest.

He fell down against Kurt with a gasp, their breaths ragged and gasping, the air between them mingling with their heat and burning as it hit their lungs, like it only it had the proper make up to keep them going. Like the only air that could sustain them was that which had been passed through the other’s lungs first, the kind that they’d been deprived of for months.

He pressed his forehead against Kurt’s as his bones went limp, as his body molded to Kurt’s and they rested, the heat in the car like a blanket and the press of Kurt’s skin against his. There was a stickiness between them, a mixture of rain and sweat and drying come and it was unpleasant in a way but it was also overshadowed by the fit of their bodies, the warm, grounding pressure of Kurt’s hand, still cupping the back of Blaine’s neck.

His forehead pressed against Blaine’s, the flutter of his eyelashes like a breeze.

***

“You know, you don’t have to walk me back to the front door.”

Blaine winced a little at the tone, slightly clipped and defensive and he closed the door of his car, glancing at the ground and shuffling his feet awkwardly before making his way toward Kurt’s side of the car. “Too much of a gentleman not to,” he murmured quietly, trying to joke.

Kurt scoffed and Blaine couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by that feeling again, crushing him from the inside. Because no matter how much anyone willed it, he knew that life wasn’t a romantic comedy. That there weren’t events that guaranteed a happy ending and, even if there were, sex wasn’t necessarily one of them.

There was a quiet moment afterward, but it had dissolved into the awkwardness of uncertainty and the hushed offer of a ride back home.

It was an act of the moment, hard and desperate from being deprived, but as romantic as he was, Blaine wasn’t a fool into thinking that it would always, in all situations, be more.

“Well, you’re definitely right about that,” Kurt muttered, allowing Blaine to fall into pace with him as they walked up toward Kurt’s front door.

Blaine didn’t know what to do with himself during that short little walk in the dark. He couldn’t help thinking that he probably should have stayed in the car instead of staring at his feet as they padded along the wet ground, the air around him damp and heavy after the rain.

It was too much like Battery Park and he resisted the urge to simply run back into his car and drive away. His first instinct was to stick his hands in the pockets of his red jeans, but that only reminded him of Kurt in those red pants and the fact that he’d had his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t wring his hands awkwardly in front of him, not with the memory of Kurt’s long, pale fingers intertwined as they walked and so he settled on simply crossing his arms across his torso, hugging and holding himself together.

Kurt walked with a hand in his back pocket, the other holding his damp vest, with patches of his white T-shirt still holding onto rainwater, clinging to various muscles of his back. He paused at the steps of the porch, staring at them as though conjuring up the will to step up and into his own house.

Blaine hesitated, several paces from Kurt and swayed slightly on his feet. “Well . . . okay, I should probably—”

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Kurt interrupted suddenly, his gaze flying to Blaine for the first time since Blaine had insisted on walking him to the door.

Blaine started. “I . . .” he floundered, his brow furrowing. “Okay?”

Kurt shook his head, almost angrily, his jaw clenching. “Like, honestly, I knew that after a couple weeks of knowing you but, honestly, you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

Blaine huffed, wrinkling his nose, his arms tightening their hold around his own body. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with that information?”

Kurt laughed, low and humorless, still shaking his head at the patch of flowers that lined the walk. “I just . . . is that it? You break up with me to ‘set me free,’ I don’t see you or talk to you or interact with you in _any_ capacity whatsoever for almost half a year, we have sex and now you’re just going to walk away like it doesn’t mean anything?”

Blaine sighed, sticking his hands into his pockets and training his gaze down at his feet. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Kurt.”

“Did just now mean _anything_ to you?”

“Of course it did, Kurt, I—”

“Then please just let me say something,” Kurt interrupted, holding his hand up to get Blaine to stop and he just looked so sad that Blaine shut his mouth automatically. “Blaine, I . . . Look, I . . . I understand it,” Kurt continued softly, his gaze not directed at Blaine, leaving Blaine to look at the smooth line of his profile. “Why you did it. I think it was stupid and you’re way too much of a noble idiot for your own good, but I get it. But . . . god, you just don’t understand, Blaine. You . . . you didn’t need to set me free because you never held me back. _Never_ ,” he emphasized at the rosebushes.

“Kurt—”

“No, please, I just . . . I didn’t say anything last time and you need to let me talk now,” Kurt insisted, turning to gaze at Blaine, his eyes so mesmerizing in the semi-darkness that Blaine again froze, again felt his words fall away and he nodded briefly, unable to release himself from the spell of Kurt’s expression. “Blaine, you . . . you know how shitty my life was before we met. I . . . all that stuff with Karofsky that I couldn’t control and nobody giving a shit about it. I was floundering and stretched so thin and I honestly don’t know how long I would have held out if things hadn’t changed.

“I . . .” he started but broke off with a sudden laugh and a shake of his head, looking almost amused, the expression so quick and unexpected that Blaine felt almost blown over by it. “I went to Dalton in part to spy, but in part because I needed to escape and I found you and the Warblers and . . .” he laughed again, running his hand through his hair as it dried, sticking out at odd angles at the back of his head. “At the risk of sounding like a cheesy idiot, you—”

“‘Brought me to life?’” Blaine supplied suddenly, unable to help himself and, as he met Kurt’s eye, there was that shift again, like the world was still spinning and air was still flying past him as he fell. Kurt’s lips flattened and he looked like he was trying to keep himself from laughing but, seeing the same look on Blaine’s face, he cracked a smile, head falling as he laughed.

It was like a flashback to simpler times, just the two of them laughing, when loving someone was so much easier.

Kurt chuckled until his shoulders stopped shaking and the laughter in his expression fading into a small, sad smile. He shook his head again, as though he were in part amused by the situation and took a step toward the house, only to fall gracefully into a seated position on the top step of his porch.

“I don’t know why I have to tell you this . . .” he murmured softly, his hands folded over his knees and his eyes watching his own fingers as they flexed anxiously. “You know all this. I needed someone so badly then and you just showed up and . . . I fell so hard for you.” His voice was quiet, as though he were speaking to himself, but in the strangest way it kept Blaine grounded, kept his own terrifying thoughts and fears and insecurities at bay. “And you . . . you made me want to keep fighting. You made me want to just get out and get away—not from you or anything, I just . . . fuck, that sounded way better in my head,” Kurt broke off, his entire face scrunching together as he tried to figure out where the words had translated poorly.

Blaine snorted and moved a little closer, his steps slow as though he were waiting for Kurt to stop him. “No, I get it,” he assured softly, settling down on the step next to Kurt, the drying sleeve of his shirt just barely brushing against Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt swallowed, the long line of his throat just visible out of the corner of his eye and shifted his body until he was partially facing Blaine. “Blaine, you know me. I’m strong, I can hold my own better than most people can, but you made me stronger. I was free with you and you trying to set me free was like . . . I don’t know, like snapping one of my wings. I could function, I could go on, but I couldn’t pretend that I was any freer or alive or anything after. And I just . . . I loved you so much and I still love you and I don’t think I could stand to see you walk away from me again. Not like this, not like . . . _anything_ , honestly.”

“I love you too,” Blaine whispered, his heart pounding at the admission.

Kurt frowned, as though he were waiting for Blaine to continue, but when the silence stretched thin before him he glanced down at his hands again. “I don’t know what that means, Blaine. There . . . there was a time when you could say one word and I would know exactly what you meant but . . . I don’t understand what you telling me you love me _means_ anymore.”

Blaine breathed in, the inhale long and shaky and he pursed his lips, trying to gather his own thoughts. “I don’t have a lot of friends,” he started, glancing up when Kurt scoffed. “No, I mean . . . I know that people are . . . ‘drawn to me,’ whatever that means, but I don’t have very many people in my life that I trust as much as I trust you. The last person I remember trusting almost as much as you was Tyler and after Sadie Hawkins I just . . . I don’t think I said two words to him. It just that when I start to get paranoid that I’m losing the people that I trust, I just get stupid and I push then further away because maybe then it will hurt less than having to lose them bit by bit.”

“That is really stupid,” Kurt acknowledged, smiling weakly when Blaine laughed briefly. “I told you, on multiple occasions if I recall,” he added with a slight smirk, “that I wasn’t planning on ever saying goodbye to you.”

“People always say that,” Blaine murmured sadly to himself.

Kurt frowned. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he replied sternly.

“Yeah, I . . . I know that . . .” Blaine acknowledged, staring absently at a piece of loose gravel before taking a deep breath and looking at Kurt. “I’m sorry. Kurt, I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“I know,” Kurt murmured softly, his gaze a little warmer, that familiar little smile, the one that lit his face up like a beacon, threatening to break through his semi-cautious exterior. He gazed at Blaine and it felt like the rainclouds were parting, the blue in his eyes a little bit clearer, lit up by its own radiance. Almost as though he could see himself reflected in Blaine’s eyes, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink color and he ducked his head, staring at his knees. “So, now what?” he murmured softly, the smile still evident in his lighter tone of voice.

Blaine exhaled, growing thoughtful as he too stared down at his knees, feeling all the emotions of the night mixing in within him but there was one thing he couldn’t deny. He couldn’t deny the warmth in the once hollow portion of his chest, the certain happiness that he’d felt with Kurt, that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked coyly, glancing at Kurt out of the corner of his eye.

Kurt’s brow furrowed momentarily. “Nothing.”

“You and I should get dinner, then.”

Kurt’s mouth opened slightly, his brows crinkling further together. “Dinner?” he murmured, sounding like he was trying not to let too much emotion into his voice.

Blaine pursed his lips and nodded, rising to his feet and dusting off his lap as he spoke. “Yeah. Maybe a movie afterwards, what do you think?”

Kurt gazed up at him, his eyes bright and his mouth forming into a half smile when he realized that Blaine had no intention of going anywhere this time. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“See, you aren’t as bad at reading my intentions as you thought you were,” Blaine smirked, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from grinning to hard. Before Kurt could response, Blaine leaned down, hand rising automatically to frame one of Kurt’s cheeks and press his lips gently against Kurt’s. It was such a different kiss from earlier that night, gentle and reassuring rather than frantic and desperate, but no less emotional. Blaine could feel the world inverting as Kurt sighed against his lips, but pulled back with a teasing look.

“Good night, Kurt,” he murmured softly, his forehead against Kurt’s, curls mixing in with Kurt’s long, straight locks. He hesitated for a brief moment, as though contemplating propriety versus a submission to feeling, before running a thumb over Kurt’s cheek gently and whispering, “I love you.”

He felt Kurt’s breath catch a little, evident in the movement of his face in the turn of the air between them. “A proclamation of love before our first date?” Kurt mused thoughtfully, his voice a tad breathless and the dimples of his smile evident beneath the pads of Blaine’s fingertips. “My, my, this feels quite serious, indeed.”  



End file.
